No Choice At All
by LillianLuthor
Summary: AU. Aragorn has loved Legolas all of his life, but his love is no longer that of a child.


Title: No Choice At All

Fandom: Lord of the Rings

Pairing: Estel/Legolas

Rating: PG

Author: Lillian "I-should-change-my-name-to-something-elvish" Luthor

E-mail: sure, I'm a bitch for it... I'll even settle for flames if you have nothing good to say

Archive: if you care enough to want it, you have it. Just let me know, or whatever...

Disclaimer: they're not mine, nothing this pretty has ever been mine... I'm just borrowing, in an amateur and unprofitable kind of way.

(¯·.(¯·.(¯·. Don't shoot! This is my first LOTR fic! .·´¯).·´¯).·´¯)

It had been a long day for Legolas, yet he was somehow reluctant to go to bed.

As the youngest of several sons, Legolas was well used to be sent as a messenger to all elven realms, back and forth, whenever the news required someone of some hierarchy to transmit them. The roads of Arda were not unknown to him, nor where the perils that awaited at every turn.

That morning, however, he had been caught off his guard. He traveled with an escort of ten elven males, the minimum amount of warriors his father and brothers –who still loved to baby him—would allow. Still, however many and however well-trained they were, they had been hardly ready to be awakened that morning by a party of some fifty battle-thirsty orcs.

The sentinel they had set for the night had done his duty, and they had all fought well, but the orcs were well armed, and the trip from Mirkwood had been long and tiring. They had been holding their own, nonetheless, until Tathar had mistepped and gotten hit by an orc blade. After that, it had all become confusing, and they had been so intent in saving their lives they hadn't noticed the three riders until the number of orcs started quickly diminishing by effort of their able swords.

As much as he had always loved all three of Lord Elrond's sons, he had never counted himself happier to see them than at that moment. As soon the last of the orcs had been slain, they had ridden together the rest of the way to Imladris, where the twins had taken Tathar to the houses of healing, while Estel had taken him to Lord Elrond to deliver his message.

There were still details that needed be discussed with his host, but the half-elf had insisted that they all rested for the rest of the day, before any further negotiations were carried out. The matter wasn't pressing, so he had agreed, eager to find some rest and check on his wounded friend.

He had been glad to learn that the blade that had hit Tathar had not been poisoned, so he was expected to heal from the small wound in no time. He had spent the rest of the day with Lord Elrond's sons, trying to make up for lost time; he had found Estel much changed, which had reminded him of his friend's mortality. It never ceased to pain him.

Dinner had been served some time ago, and as soon as it had been polite to do so he had excused himself; despite been an elf, he was still slightly upset by the morning interlude. He was aware that some of his men might have died, had it not been for the three brothers' timely intervention, and he needed some quietness to put his mind at ease once again.

So he sat in the gardens, in no place in particular, watching Ithil high in the skies as she illuminated all that surrounded him with her bluish light. So relaxed was he, he wasn't surprised when he failed to notice the one approaching, up until he was politely spoken to.

"May I sit with you, Legolas?" his friend asked, obviously aware that he had not been noticed

"You may indeed, Estel…" he looked up and smiled warmly at the human "And, pray tell, where are those brothers of yours? The three of you just never seem to be apart, these days."

"Off on their own, I should guess. Much as they love my company –and I theirs—they have more… private endeavors." the young man chuckled "I am afraid that, as much as they enjoy taking me with them in their errands, it leaves them little time to themselves."

"I see." Legolas laughed, his eyes having turned back to stare at Ithil as soon as Estel had settled down "Never have I met two elves more mischievous than Elladan and Elrohir." he sighed, a hundred memories of them as naughty elflings crossing his memory; he had beautiful memories of them, and he smiled.

Estel smiled as well, and turned to the elf to bid him tell some of the embarrassing stories of which his companion knew so many, but the smile slowly faded from his face. He couldn't but hold his breath at the sight of Legolas, his face upturned to look at the moon, which in turn illuminated him and colored his perfect features with a bluish tint.

He knew Legolas' profile by heart –he could have drawn it from memory—but never had his ethereal beauty struck him as it did now.

He had met Legolas at a very tender age, and had always known the beauty of the Prince of Mirkwood was something to behold, but he had never felt as touched by it as he did now, in the moonlight; Legolas' eyes shining with happiness, an easy smile on his perfect lips.

"You're beautiful." he whispered, barely aware of the words leaving his mouth.

"So you have been telling me since you were first capable of speech." Legolas smiled affectionately, turning to Estel "I am but a regular elf, and no more beautiful than you or your siblings, Estel."

"And this you have told me since I have use of memory." he laughed easily "But to me, you're still the most beautiful elf that ever lived…"

"Surely you don't compare my beauty to that of Luthien!" Legolas said jokingly, half amused and half disbelieving.

"I cannot speak of one whom I haven't met, but if it is indeed true that my dear sister is the likeness of Luthien, then I must say that yes, you are far more fair than she."

"Estel, I am not a maid to be wooed so…" he said in mock annoyance, but in truth, more than a little touched by his young friend's innocent admiration.

Estel had always taken to him as to no-one else, and even as a babe he had preferred Legolas' arms to anybody else's. Ever since he had mastered speech, he had told Legolas of his beauty and his grace and, but for a brief period during his teens, he had always sought after Legolas' company.

"I must confess it was not my intent, when coming here, to woo you." Estel chuckled, realizing how bold he had been "And never would I compare you to a maid… I have seen you fight, and you are as deadly as you are beautiful."

"Ai, Estel." sighed Legolas, and smiled "I fear you only see this much virtue in me because of your youth; once you see the world, you will forget about this folly."

As hard as it was for him to admit, Estel was no longer a child. After only twenty years since coming to Imladris, he was already full-grown; he was a fine swordsman, and not a half-bad archer. And as much as it pained him to see Estel grow into a man so quickly, he fully understood the inevitability of it.

"I understand what you say." Estel sighed in turn, his eyes turning sad all of a sudden "I am no longer a child, and I have a destiny that I must fulfill… I have obligations, that come with my lineage." he looked down at his feet for a moment, and remained silent for a long time; but before Legolas could attempt to comfort him, he looked up into his eyes again "Father has already told me all this, and I will do what I must, even if I would not. But please, my friend, do not consider me so young that I know not my heart…"

As he spoke, he looked at Legolas with so much love in his eyes that the elf was taken aback; he didn't even react when Estel's hand began softly tracing his cheek.

"You are, in my eyes, everything that is beautiful and noble; you have always been, and that will not change –even if _I_ forcefully must." the human continued to speak, but all of a sudden, as if realizing the fruitlessness of his speaking thus, he halted and looked away, taking his hand away as well.

Legolas' heart ached to see Estel in distress; he would give up his life in an instant to keep this man from pain, yet he could not keep him from this particular kind of suffering.

If he had to be honest with himself, he had known for some time that Estel's love for him was no longer that of a child, but that of a man. He had seen the lingering glances, and the tentative smiles when caught staring. He could swear he had seen desire, raw sensual need, in his friend's eyes on more than one occasion over the past few years.

And what frightened him the most was the way his own feelings for Estel had changed, along the years. At one time he had been away from Rivendell for four years, busy with some diplomatic correspondence between his father and the Lady Galadriel, and had been back to Imladris to find the awkward teenager turned into an astounding young man. A man he had learned to love all over again, and with whom –were he free to—he would not hesitate to share his passion.

Estel was staring up at Ithil now, his eyes glassy with unshed tears, and it made his heart cry to see him so. He wished he could do something, but there was nothing for him to do; Estel had a destiny, and one that he must fulfill, for the sake of the whole of Arda. To give his heart entirely to this man would be to have it inexorably broken; to wither away and die. He suffered even now, and he knew that, were he to allow himself to love Estel, his love for him would grow steadily to infinitum.

"Legolas." Estel's soft voice brought him back from his thoughts; as he spoke, the man was still not looking at him "I apologize. I should have never spoken thus to you, but please forgive me, for I meant no ill."

Then he turned, and stared sadly at Legolas' blue orbs, which at this point were filling up with tears as well "Please, do not be sad, Legolas." he said "What a fool I am, that I have made you weep…"

"It is not you that make me sad, but the way of things…" he sighed "Estel, long has it been since I have seen you as a child, and I crave for your touch almost as much as I crave for your love. But you're not free to offer these; you are to face great peril, and become a king of men. There will be no place for an elf there, least of all a male elf…"

"This is perhaps true…" Estel admitted "I would never forsake you, Legolas; but you deserve so much better than I could ever offer."

For a moment he remained silent, as if considering things, but soon he spoke again "Nay, I would never ask of you to bind with me; I would spare you from all harm, if only I could…" he said, determination in his voice "I am sorry, let us speak of this no more."

Silence befell, and they both stared ahead to contemplate the bright moon, as it shone above their heads. Legolas knew the ways of men; he knew that love between males was frowned upon, and in some countries even punishable by death. He furthermore knew that, as a king, Estel would be expected to sire children. He also knew that the destiny of the man beside him involved many trials and tribulations, and his path towards becoming a king would be a long and dangerous one.

"Estel…" it was his time now to whisper; the man was clearly avoiding his eyes, and did not respond to his name "Estel, please, look at me." he plead, and after a moment of hesitation his friend turned to look at him; there were tear tracks running down his cheeks. He couldn't help but run a long fingered hand down that cheek, gathering the moisture with all due care.

"Ai Estel, you are so young…" he sighed, more to himself than to the other; human life was such a fast-burning flame, but how it burnt while it lasted!

"I am young, but my heart is true." Estel whispered back, unconsciously leaning into the caress of the elf's tender hand.

"I know." he attempted a smile, his eyes never leaving those of his human friend; fresh tears rolled down to crash into Legolas' hand, but Estel's eyes did not falter, still staring at him with a mixture of pleading and resignation.

One slightly rough hand came to cup Legolas', holding it tight against the still soft skin of the man's face. That skin would soon turn coarse, Legolas knew, and those hands would soon become trembling and useless; those strong muscles would soon fade into weak limbs and wrinkled skin. And, were he to do what his heart told him to, he would lose Estel even before that.

The dunedain seemed to sense the course the elf's thoughts had taken, and finally looked down. He did not release Legolas' hand, though, and it was that same hand that the elven Prince used to lift his friend's chin, forcing him to meet his eyes once again. There was no longer anything but sadness in there.

"Estel, I would kiss you now." he said, surprising himself at his boldness and yet not regretting it at all "May I?"

A bit of hope filtered through Estel's sorrow-clouded eyes, as he simply nodded his head, not quite sure of what to expect. When Legolas' lips touched his, he let his eyes fall closed and sighed at the long desired contact.

It was almost, thought Legolas, a parody of the chaste kisses he had placed upon those same lips, when Estel was but a child. An outside viewer could have confused the nature of the kiss to be as platonic as the ones they had shared before by the thousands, but even now Legolas felt a need for more growing inside of him.

They remained like that, lips touching but unmoving, for what felt like an eternity. It wasn't until Estel started to pull away that Legolas slid his hand behind the other's neck, pulling him back, and started kissing him in earnest, his lips moving softly against those of his friend.

He could have stayed forever in that moment, kissing this man as if it were not doomed from the start. It was only when Estel tentatively opened his mouth, that he realized he had just made a choice. He gave in to it completely, letting his tongue snake out to play with Estel's for a sweet instant, and wondering how he could ever have thought to live without this. All too soon he carefully pulled away.

He looked up to Estel's still closed eyes, and the notion came upon him that he had not made any choice; there had never been a choice, to begin with.

"Estel." he called softly, the proximity making it unnecessary to raise his voice above a whisper.

The eyes that looked back at him were still uncertain, but a glimmer of a hope was mingled with the despair now; the elf wasn't surprised to acknowledge, at that moment, that he would follow this man to Mordor if he aught to.

"Come on, Estel." he whispered, placing a chaste –and all too brief—kiss on the man's lips before gracefully standing up; he offered his hand to Estel, who took it somewhat confusedly.

"Is there something…" the man began to say, but an elven hand lovingly covered his lips before he could even finish his sentence.

"Hush now, Estel… let us say no more of this." he bode the man, who nodded his head at once, even if he did not completely understand what was going on in the elf's head. He stared for an eternal moment at Estel's face, at the open honesty of the feelings reflected in the clear orbs, at the complete trust in his expression. He smiled.

"Would you come to bed with me?" the elf asked, but ever as he asked, he knew he didn't need to do so. None of them could have helped it.

They had precious little time, perhaps half a century, to love each other. But any time, as brief as it might be, would be worth the sacrifice, worth the pain that was sure to come in time. To live forever without having ever known this, would have been the worst punishment of all.


End file.
